


Who Woulda Thunk

by RockemSockem



Category: DCU (Comics), The Flash (Comics)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Non-Canon Relationship, Pining, Post-Crisis, Pre-Crisis, Repression, Roommates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-11
Updated: 2017-07-18
Packaged: 2018-11-12 20:13:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11169237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RockemSockem/pseuds/RockemSockem
Summary: Mick's on the run from Goldface when he decides to hide in the last place the man will look for him: Barry Allen's apartment. Then he has to spend the next few days dealing with his enormous crush on the scarlet speedster.





	1. A Face to Remember

**Author's Note:**

> This story is heavily based off of Pre-Crisis Flash, especially #315 and #316 but referencing some earlier stories (the beginning setup especially). I tried to keep it as close as possible to what actually happened and plausible while acknowledging some retcons and taking character development from Post-Crisis, so it's a bit of a hybrid. Hopefully that clears up some of the contradictions inherent in the tags I chose!
> 
> The entire scenario down to a couple of lines comes from the aforementioned issues, other than the fact that this story will eventually have them totally bang, which isn't something that happened. But, you know, fight me. (Don't actually fight me.)

On a list of the Rogues, Mick Rory was rarely listed as the most dangerous despite his theme. Personality-wise, he was generally considered the soft one. In fact, most people he knew agreed he was nice, friendly, often cheerful, and would tremble at the sight of an ice cube. A good guy -- except the whole fire thing. 

While Mick didn’t mind being considered nice, often the tone among the criminal class took a patronizing air. This came to a head one day when he was having a drink with the other Rogues. They were spiritedly debating who would be the one to finally one-up the Flash, and when he tried to join in, Boomerang let out a loud guffaw and claimed he’d be the last person in the room to beat the scarlet speedster.

Mick couldn’t help but say, “Didn’t stop me from being the first one to unmask him, did it?”

“Naw, no way,” said Cold.

“If you unmasked the Flash, you would've been bragging about it for months,” said Mirror Master.

Piper, nursing his own drink, piped up with, “Actually... Mick mentioned it to me once. But he said he was keeping a lid on it until he figured out who the guy was.”

This had been true. Mick had unmasked the Flash and discovered, after a moment of staring, that he didn't recognize him one iota. He was... a guy. But Mick would never forget that face. The chiselled cheekbones and the golden hair, and the – well. Didn’t have to be Piper to tell when a guy was a looker, right? 

“So lemme get this straight,” said Cold, “You unmasked the Flash but you don’t know who he is?”

Mick scowled at him. “Could’ve been anyone. Not like the Flash carries around a driver’s licence. But one day I’ll run into him and _then_ I’ll know.”

The other Rogues burst into laughter, teasing him for not finding out by then when they weren't straight up disbelieving the story. Or at least, they claimed they didn’t. But ever since that day, there was a rumor: Mick Rory had seen the Flash’s face.

Like any game of broken telephone, once outside the Rogues the rumor took on steam and soon morphed into “Heat Wave knows the Flash’s secret identity.” But after a while the gossip died down and people forgot again. Mostly.

Later, after a jail stint, Mick had had enough. He was going to reform. No more life of crime for him, it was going to be the end of Heat Wave. And after a few bumps (like Captain Cold and Golden Glider taking affront to his rehabilitation and taking it out on him, and his parole officer trying to frame him for crimes he didn’t commit) Mick had finally broken free.

Most of the Rogues refused to talk to him anymore, but that was fine. He’d gained a new friend: The Flash himself. Mick liked the Flash; even when he was a rogue he respected the man. But the speedster became the first person to really believe that he was trying to change and became his personal advocate. He would check in sometimes to see how Mick was doing, appearing in a streak of red. Usually he’d just have a few words before he’d speed off again, but he became a nice touchstone in Mick’s life.

Mick liked him a lot.

So one day while reading the newspaper he came across an article talking about the award won by one of the CCPD forensic scientists: Barry Allen. Mick took a glance at the photograph before giving it a very quick double-take. That face had burned into his memory. He recognized him right away.

Barry Allen was the Flash. Well whadya know. Mick didn't even think before deciding to keep it to himself. He had no reason to spread it around now that they were friends, he was reformed, and he didn’t know if the Flash _wanted_ him to know. Not saying anything kept things simple.

That’s what he thought, anyway. But some gossip never dies, and desperate people chase down any lead they have to find what they want. And no one is more desperate than a crime boss trying to make a name in a new town. That name was Goldface.

One very long shift at the glassworks factory, one brief kidnapping, interrogation and subsequent escape, some detective work and Mick found himself cracking open Barry Allen’s window. After all, if Goldface didn’t know who the Flash was enough to snatch Mick up to make him spill the beans, how would he know to look there? Not just that -- Mick didn’t know who else he could trust. But he trusted the Flash. He just hoped Barry Allen would see it that way.

Despite himself, he couldn’t help but snoop while he waited. The man’s apartment was sparse. It had furniture, a few plants, and a really weird shaped table but other than that it was hard to get a read on him. Other than a picture of a woman who looked vaguely familiar, there wasn’t much. Mick wondered if between having a regular job and being Flash the guy even had time for accumulating stuff. Mick’s place was much the same way, but in his case it was sixteen hour shifts and all his spare money going to therapy.

He was probably going to get fired. There was no way he could go to work until Goldface was stopped and even calling in sick might be dangerous. He hoped the Flash might vouch for him to his parole officer, at least. In this town the speedster’s word carried weight.

That was if Barry didn’t blow a gasket at having Mick in his apartment. But he needn’t have worried. A few hours later, Mick heard the front door smack open and there was a rush. Peering around the bedroom doorframe, he saw a blur as the Flash changed at superspeed and crunched his costume up so small it could fit into a ring.

“So _that’s_ how you do it...”

Barry whipped around, but before he could say more than “eh?”, Mick launched into his spiel. He explained how he was on the run, how by protecting him he might protect himself, how he found out his identity and never told anyone but now that was under threat.

Mick felt like he was going on and on while Barry just stared at him with his eyes wide in shock. Blue, just exactly the way Mick remembered them. He’d never forgotten that face, but now it was surreal seeing him again, only awake and at a loss for words.

After Mick finished there was a moment where neither of them said anything. His heart pounded, anxiety gripping his stomach.

“You’re a reformed criminal who’s paid his debt to society. I trust you... and you’re welcome to stay until I put Goldface away.”

Mick was so relieved he could’ve kissed him but instead he just shook his hand and grinned. “Barry my man – I was hoping you’d say that.”

It was a bit odd at first. Barry went to go get some spare sheets and a blanket from the closet so Mick could sleep on the couch while asking him questions about where he’d seen Goldface, what his goons were like, any details. Then he asked him a bit to elaborate on why Mick hadn’t simply given up his identity. At one point Barry admitted that there were a few occasions before where he’d purposely hid rather than have Mick spot his face.

“If I knew you’d be so chill about it -- heh -- I wouldn’t have bothered.”

Mick thought he was lying but appreciated it all the same. Barry had accepted him into his home without a thought, despite everything. He’d never forget it. If Goldface found him and _did_ torture him for Barry’s identity, Mick decided he’d take it to the grave. It was the least he could do.

When the shop-talk had and neither of them knew what to say to each other they fussed with arrangements instead. Laying down a sheet across the bed, Barry’s blond hair drifted across his forehead. From this angle, Mick noticed he had really long lashes. He shook his head, trying to chase _that_ little observation away.

He should make small talk. “So… Living the bachelor life, huh? No girlfriend gonna get mad that there’s an ex-con on the couch?” Great, good job, Mick, that line of questioning wasn’t helping either.

Barry smiled sadly. “Widower. I was trying to move on -- there was another woman -- but... well, she broke up with me.”

“Oh.” Even better job, Mick, now you’re an asshole. He remembered the picture of the woman and wondered if that had been his wife. “Sorry, didn’t realize –“

Barry shook his head. “It’s kind of reassuring to know you haven’t been stalking me.”

Mick put a hand to his heart. “Only found out where you live ‘cause it was an emergency, swear to god.”

That got him a grin in response. “Next time you need a place to hide out from murderous maniacs, call first? You almost gave me a heart attack.”

“Promise.”

\--

In the morning, Mick carefully folded up the bedsheets and put them away. He didn’t remember passing out in his clothes last night, but considering the day he had he wasn't surprised. He considered asking Barry for some clothes, but the man was slimmer than he was. Plus, he’d already asked for a lot just staying here.

Stretching, he entered the kitchen to find Barry making a cup of coffee. “Mornin’.”

Barry only grunted in response.

Mick worried that maybe he was regretting his decision. “What’s wrong?”

Barry leaned down, hands on the edge of the counter and glared at the coffee-maker. “I could’ve gone to Columbia to get a cup of coffee with fresh beans and come back by the time this’ll be done. All the speed in the world can’t get me a cup of joe in the morning.”

Mick laughed, partly from relief. “Never really thought about it that way. World moves too slow for you, huh?”

Barry smiled at him and goddamn did he have a good smile. It warmed Mick right to the core, to the point where he busied himself by opening the fridge instead of having to look at Barry like that. This was becoming a problem.

Opening the fridge, Mick raised an eyebrow at the state of it. “Well, least you got beer.”

“Sorry, I eat too much to keep it well stocked. I’ll pick you up something from the store on my way home.”

“You don’t need to, I can handle it.”

Barry shook his head and folded his arms. “If Goldface is looking for you, I don’t think it’s a good idea to leave the apartment at all, even for a snack. Why take the risk when I can get the groceries back in half a minute?”

“Got a point.” Mick looked at him seriously now. “I really appreciate this, I mean it.”

“No problem, it’s kind of nice having someone around. Especially someone who already knows who I am. It’s weird, but even things like the coffee machine – I’d have to make up some reason for being impatient. I’m not used to being honest.” He laughs. “Guess that makes me a bad hero.”

“No,” Mick said vehemently, “You’re the best of the lot.”

Barry’s eyebrows rose, clearly surprised, before he relaxed into an embarrassed smile. “I know you’re glad to be here, but you don’t have to kiss my butt to stay.”

Just as Mick opened his mouth to respond, the phone rang. Barry was across the room answering it before it rang a second time. “Allen. What? When? Oh no, I’m so sorry – yes, I’ll be there right away.”

He hung up, and just as quickly as he answered it, he was in costume. He was definitely slimmer than Mick, who was now consciously aware of how very tight-fitting the costume was.

“Cop down. Got to go. Help yourself to whatever.”

“Oh jeeze, good lu—“ But he was gone before Mick could finish. 

Mick let his forehead fall forward, hitting the fridge. That smile. That laugh. “Dammit.” The long eyelashes and those lips. "Dammit, dammit." The easy way he acted despite their history. “Dammit, dammit, dammit.” It was getting harder and harder to pretend he didn’t swing that way. Or swing in that particular direction.

Imagine what the Rogues would think if they knew he had a crush on the Flash? No, they didn’t matter anymore. They weren’t his friends. Mick tried to think of any other friends he had – sure there was people at work he was friendly with. Mick was a nice guy, he tended to get along with most people. But the only friend he really had was the Flash. Barry Allen.

Handsome, kind, considerate, superhero. Maybe a bit bland, but otherwise the perfect catch. But then again, he’d never be able to catch the Flash. That’s not how it worked.

He opened the fridge again and grabbed a can. Bit early to be drinking but... he’d need a pick me up.

\--

Hours later, he was tied up. Literally. Some weirdo in a purple cape and cowl had come in, calling him an intruder. Mick had his guard down and now he was roped to a chair and gagged by a shirt. Who even heard of "Captain Invincible"? He hadn't.

Barry had taken the creep away for a talk and left him there to stew. Dammit, he’d looked so amused but Mick was too frustrated by the whole thing to find it funny. Soon, though, Barry was back and pulling off the gag.

“Sorry about that, Mick, he’s been a pain in my neck for a while now – I didn’t mean to get you caught up in it. I just thought it’d be best if you didn’t sock him in my living room.”

Mick spat out a hair that’d gotten into his mouth from the gag and glowered. “Can I set him on fire? Just a little?”

“ _Mick_.” Barry slung the shirt over his shoulder.

“Can’t believe he got the jump on me.” Mick struggled against the ropes and couldn’t help but notice they were still there. “C’mon, Bar, I know you can get ‘em off in a flash. What’s the deal?”

“Right, sorry, just wanted to enjoy it a moment more.”

Barry immediately started untying Mick and was done before he’d even finished blushing. Mick grunted, stretching his now-free limbs. “Next time you want me tied up, ask first.”

Barry’s mouth twitched, but soon he cleared his throat. “Anyway. I don’t know if you’ve been watching the news...”

Mick frowned, rubbing his wrists. “Goldface offed that cop and threatened you with more if you didn’t stay away.”

The news report had pissed him off. Not that he was any particular cop-lover, but it was putting Flash in a position where he’d blame himself for any deaths. Like cops or not, Barry worked for the department. He’d probably take it hard. It was a dirty trick. Not something the Rogues would do either; at least they had standards, unlike Goldface.

Barry nodded, collapsing on the couch. “I don’t know what to do, Mick. If they see me, another police officer will die. I can’t allow that.”

“If they see you,” Mick pointed out. “Sometimes you move so fast nobody _can_.”

“True,” Barry tapped his chin thoughtfully, “But going that fast all of the time will get exhausting.” 

“You got a choice?” Mick was sympathetic. It was kind of odd seeing this from the other perspective. Imagining chasing down crooks from the Flash’s point of view.

“No, not really. I’ll just have to make sure I catch him – as soon as I come up with a plan.” Barry leaned back, groaning. “But tonight I’m exhausted. What’s on TV?”


	2. Musty and Husky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barry gets bored.

Police scientist Allen still had work and as the Flash he tried to help out that way too, Mick knew, but Barry was also at the house more and more. The first day Mick barely saw him but apparently he’d pushed himself a bit too far and almost got spotted helping an old man not get run over by a car. The second day he came home immediately after work (which wasn’t hyperbole for him), and it was clear he didn’t really know what to do with himself.

Mick turned the page of the newspaper he’d been brought. When he’d asked for one, Barry had come back to him with the local left-leaning and right-leaning papers, and about half a dozen other newspapers -- the New York Times, the Daily Planet, the Toronto Star... Mick got the distinct impression that instead of calling or even running back to ask him he’d just bought them all. Mick wouldn't even be surprised if he'd bought them in their home cities, either.

“You’ve dusted that lamp already,” he remarked, looking up from an article about how Superman was going to marry a werewolf or whatever the heck they got up to in Metropolis.

“Oh, right.” Barry’s arms abruptly became visible again.

“Twice.”

Suddenly Barry was on the couch beside him, leaning back and groaning. “I think I’ve cleaned _everything_ twice. What’s in the paper?”

“The usual. There’s a half dozen of ‘em here, could keep you busy for a while.”

There was a sudden rush, as the newspapers beside Mick were picked up, flipped through, and put back down in seconds. After they were gone, Mick raised his eyebrow. “Anything interesting?”

“There was a -- oh shoot, I’ve forgotten already.” 

Mick looked at him incredulously. “You just read it.”

“It’s hard to remember things you read at superspeed,” said Barry, a touch defensively.

“Then read it at normal speed.”

“I think I’m too... on edge.” He tapped his knee, looking around the apartment. “Listen, is there anything you need?”

Mick, about to say no, realized something. “You could break into my place and get me a change of clothes. This turtleneck is getting musty.”

To his horror, Barry immediately leaned into smell him, before wrinkling his nose. “I didn’t even notice. You’ve been wearing this the entire time? Mick...”

Now it was Mick’s turn to be defensive. “I didn’t have time to go home before I came here. Didn’t think it was safe, anyway.”

“Well take a shower while I’ll pick some stuff up for you.”

Mick put down the newspaper, sniffing his own shirt and wincing. “Shoulda asked you two days ago. Be careful, though, my place might be watched.”

Barry gave him a nod and was gone. Mick got up, heading to the bathroom for that shower. He can’t believe he’d let it go on so long, but he’d been hoping he’d be back in his own apartment by the point he needed one. He can’t really blame Flash for that one, he was trying his best despite everything Goldface was throwing at him. Mostly Mick was just embarrassed at how gross he'd become. As the water ran down his back Mick's hands were attracted to his face as if they were made of magnets. Bury him now.

By the time he turned off the water he was over it. Mostly.

He was stepping out when there was a knock on the bathroom door. “Mick? Delivery.”

Mick opened the door, a towel around his waist, still dripping. There was Barry holding out some of his clothes, though the man almost immediately turned a bit pink. “Oh, I was going to leave them by the door...”

Barry drifted off, staring at him, until Mick finally said, “What?”

“You’re... very wet.” Barry couldn't seem to tear his eyes away.

Mick, on the other hand, became suddenly very aware of how close to naked he was.

“Oh, right. Sorry, spend enough time in prison and you forget people actually care about your privacy...” Mick took the clothes with an apologetic smile. “...You want a picture? It’ll last longer.”

“No!” Barry was a bit more pink now. “I was just thinking you’re more fit than I was expecting. Since you’re not active anymore. Right. Sorry, I’ll –“ And he was gone in a blink of an eye.

Mick closed the door, amused and a bit... well. Maybe he could continue his shower for a bit longer.

\--

It wasn’t long before Barry was acting normal again, though Mick got the distinct impression he kept glancing at him. Mick wished he wouldn’t; it was getting harder to restrain himself from wanting to tease him about it. 

Just a bit longer and he could go back to pretending he didn’t want to run his fingers through that blond hair while he tasted those lips and – nope. 

Mick wasn’t sure what the point was. Was he just used to holding himself back nowadays? Repress his need to go back to crime, repress the urge to light it all up and watch it burn, repress repress repress until all he had left was work, sleep and meals.

“Hey, Mick?” Barry’s voice stopped his thoughts as effectively as a gate slamming shut.

They were watching a movie on TV, some documentary on Atlantis and the King thereof but Mick had zoned out a while ago. He hoped he didn’t have to give an opinion on it. “What’s up?”

“The Snarts haven’t given you any trouble since that one time, have they?”

Mick blinked, sitting up on the couch a bit. “Naw, not really. Think they decided to give me the cold shoulder instead. Why?”

Barry tapped his fingers on the couch. “I was thinking... what if Goldface isn’t the last person to come looking for you because of me? What if it’s not safe for you in Central City? If the Rogues still have a beef with you on top of that...”

Mick leaned forward, folding his hands and resting his elbows on his knees. “Ain’t your fault, Bar. The likes of the Rogues and Goldface wouldn’t be knocking on my door if it weren’t for me. My choice to join the Rogues, my choice to unmask you – shoulda just kept my mouth shut.” He looked at Barry, trying to catch his eyes. “I coulda ratted you out to save my own skin, but I decided to run instead. Glad I did, don’t know what I woulda done if they’d hurt you.”

Barry did catch his gaze and seemed to be looking for something in it before he relaxed into a smile. “Now you’re worrying about me? I can take care of myself too. You know, the whole Flash thing? Kicked your butt a bunch?”

Mick smiled, but he pushed on, trying to make sure Barry understood beneath the joking. “You gave me a second chance, Barry boy. Not gonna forget about that anytime soon.”

The Rogues had been almost like a family to Mick, but they hadn't earned his loyalty the way Flash had. Mick would have his back. Mick would always have his back till the day he died.

“I haven’t regretted it so far.” Barry finally got up and turned off the TV; it was probably clear that neither of them were really watching it anymore. “You don’t make a half-bad roommate, once you remember to pick up your cans from the floor.”

He gave an apologetic smile in return. “Cleaning’s something I gotta work on. Got outta the habit when I left the circus...”

“You were in the circus?” Barry seemed delighted.

Mick smiled, and gladly spent the next hour telling Barry circus stories. Every story except the last one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this is a short chapter but the next scene is only half-written and this is the better place to break it up! Thank you everyone for reading!


End file.
